Page 172 of Elite Connections: an LGBTQ Romance Charity Anthology

I’ve changed my mind.I want to paint my whole apartment green. If I look anything like Margot does against the color, people will come from all over the world just to admire me.

Or fuck me.

Either way.

The scowl that normally weighs down her face is absent, and this peaceful quiet that surrounds her as she moves from garden to garden makes me smile. She doesn’t seem at all affected by the cold that’s rattling my bones.

“You know, I never would have chosen somewhere like this,” I admit.

“Oh yeah? Why’s that?”

It’s hard to say. There’s nothing flashy or showy here. Nothing that feels like it’s making a statement. I hadn’t realized how much of my life was dedicated to pissing off my parents until this moment right here. “Honestly, I think I’m a little messed up in the head.”

“We’re partway through painting your perfectly normal apartment every shade of the rainbow, so I’d say that’s a safe assumption.”

“Has anyone ever told you you’re quite rude?”

“I hear that a bit, yeah.”

“Do you like being rude?”

Her pretty mouth flattens, and that scowl reappears. “It’s just who I am. I can’t help it.”

“Of course you can. You called me out on being a snob, and I’ve been trying.”

She grins. “Have you?”

“Yes I have, fuck you very much.”

“And you call me rude.”

“At least I attempt to make conversation. If it was up to you, we wouldn’t talk at all.”

“What do you want to talk about?”

“Literally anything.” I hug my arms around myself to try and warm up. “What did you want to be when you grew up?”

Margot laughs. “A marine biologist.”

“What stopped you?”

“College.” She throws me a half smile. “Plus, I think just about every queer kid goes through the marine biology stage at some point.”

“Maybe it’s just every kid that goes through that stage because I wanted to be one as well.”

“You did?”

The shock on her face is adorable. “Surprise! We have something in common.”

“Yeah, I would not have picked that.”

“This game is fun. Now ask me a question.”

“Umm … what did you want to be?”

I hold back from rolling my eyes, but it’s a struggle. She’s trying, I’ll give her points for that. “A lawyer. It’s the only reason I’m even bothering to deal with this paralegal crap when I’m more qualified than half of the idiots I work with.”

“You’re a paralegal?”

I sigh, hating having to explain this so often. “I’ve completed my law degree, but since it was at Cambridge and not in the US, I need to be requalified here. Which means while I work on that, I’m paralegaling alongside a truckload of dingbats who still can’t get past the fact I shaved my hair when”—I lower my voice—“‘you look so much prettier with hair.’ No matter how many times I point out that them not being attracted to me is an improvement, they don’t seem to get it.”

Margot sniggers. “Can I ask something?”

“Isn’t that the point of this game?”

“I’ve met a whole bunch of feminists. Laid-back ones, down-with-the-patriarchy ones, others who literally just want common ground for everyone. But you … you seem to really hate men. Not the patriarchy, just … men. Why?”

My shoulders sag under the question. “I don’t hate men. My brother is the closest person in the world to me, and my sweet brother-in-law is just darling. Seven, Xander, Madden, Molly, Gabe, Darcy?—”

“I have no clue who any of these people are.”

“That’s my point. They’re all my friends, all amazing people. All men. And I love them dearly.”

“Then …”

I wrinkle my nose, well aware that what I’m about to say next will sound ridiculous. “I don’t like … I don’t like when men … when they’re … attracted to me.”

Margot stops walking. “What?”

I hang back my head as I turn to face her. “I think I just attract the worst of the worst, honestly. Because I like sex. That’s not the problem. I don’t even know if I’m making sense.” When I finally let my head drop forward again, Margot is watching me.

“So you like having sex with men, you just don’t like when one is attracted to you.”

I groan. “I sound insane, don’t I?”

“We’ve already established you’re completely off the charts.” She smiles. It makes me feel that tiny bit more confident in confiding in her.

“It’s … uncomfortable.”

“Physically?”

I bite my lip, trying to pinpoint exactly what I mean. “E-emotionally?”

Her dark eyebrows jump up. “Oh.”

“Yes. Strange. I know.”

Margot’s staring across the gardens, clearly thinking through something. “And you have no girls who are friends?”

I huff. “No.”

“Why?”

“Because I …” I don’t know. I’m not sure what I was about to say there, but whatever it was is gone now, and my mind is an echoey mess of thought. “Women are hard to talk to.”

“But why?”

“I don’t bloody well know, do I? All I know is that I’m never smart or fun or pretty enough for all the little cliques. The women at work won’t spare me the time of day, and the ones I’ve grown up with are all so obsessed with settling down that we have nothing to talk about. I’ve tried making friends in classes and going out, but … but … well, whenever I try to talk to someone who looks cool, I can’t get any words out. I’m not myself at all, and I hate it, but I’ve tried so many times I’ve come to terms with the fact I’m never going to change.”

Margot surprises me by taking a step closer, crossing some of the distance that always exists between us. “You’re doing okay with me. Is that because you don’t think I’m cool?”

Her? Not cool? I shiver and hug myself tighter. “I actually think you’re one of the coolest people I’ve ever met.”

Margot’s inhale rushes past her lips, and she quickly looks away again. She clears her throat. “You’re cold.”

It takes me a second to follow the change in conversation. “Yes.”

“Come here, then.” And before I know what’s happening, Margot shrugs off her thick jacket and steps forward to pull it around my shoulders.

Her fingers skim my neck as she tugs the front of the jacket together, and her face is so close to mine I can make out every detail.

My skin prickles, heart plucking like an out-of-tune violin, and as I look at her and she looks at me, I forget how to swallow.

“Much better.” My voice is as gentle as the breeze.

“Wouldn’t be a very good friend if I let you freeze, would I?”

My heart sings. “Is that what we are? Friends?”

Something strange crosses her face, and unlike me, she does remember how to swallow. Then she looks away. “It’s literally what you’re paying me for.”